‘She’d spoken to the bees?’ the Kelvic thought with the slightest quirk of an eyebrow. What did she mean by that? With a furtive sigh he exhaled a cleansing breath and thanked Sylir that Ser Whitevine was his Patron. If Sera Mora had been anyone else he’d have thought her insane. The sort that talked to walls, and threw smelly cats at small children as they walked down the street in front of her broken down thatched cottage whilst blathering incoherently. However, this was Sera Mora. The Desert Witch. The Wild Walker. The woman was mystery wrapped in a blanket of questions. The answers to which usually lead to more questions.
“Roight!” The Kelvic said as cheerily as possible. “Oi’ve no intention teh rob the wee ones of their hard work. After all them’n theirs need it teh live.” The woman was onto him. He loved food after all, especially new experiences. Though the sullen look that smeared Oriah’s good features told him that Sera Mora’s gaze and words were for her.
With a brief smile and wink for Oriah, he walked swiftly to the cave mouth and hopped out onto the nearest rock, taking care to manage what little gear he carried. He had a brief mission to gather green sticks for skewering their meal and hte wood was full of sticks. Though not many were straight.
It wasn’t long till the Kelvic found a standing shrubbery with straight stalks however. For a moment he observed the little plant for any signs of warning. Not a drop of excessive sap, unusual growths, or thorns adorned its surface. In fact many little bugs seemed to be crawling its green skin quite happily. He stroked his chin a brief moment before he drew his dagger with the subtle hiss steel against the brass of scabbards throat.
He sliced away a hands length of one of the plants stems and held it to his nose in his fist, curiosity his guide. With a few furtive sniffs he found the smell familiarly pleasant. It was a spice of some sort, though he was unsure which one. It was common in meat dishes. He knew that, but the name of the herb escaped him. The lack of knowledge made him grumble sofly to himself but for a minute or two before he sliced free a dozen stalks the length of his forearm.
When they were bundled into his hands he gave the bindle of stems another sniff trying to divine the answer to his question. The herbs name though would not come to him. With a thoughtful grind of his teeth he set his jaw and made his way back to the cave mouth.
The area was growing more familiar with every short journey he took into the woods. Though a little doubtful voice in the Kelvic’s head snuffed out any prideful notions of attempting to traverse the place at night. At least not on foot. As he drew close to the caves mouth Sera Mora slid quietly out from behind a nearby tree. Her movement gave the Kelvic pause as he squinted at the slippery feeling Oriah’s Patron gave him when she seemingly materialized from the greenery. “You really enjoy doin that don’t yeh?” he snapped back any scathing statements in an attempt at self-control. Instead he settled for casting a disapproving smirk her way only to receive a mysterious little smile in return.
With a shake of his head the Kelvic presented the Knight with his find. “Give’em a smell. Their some sorta herb. But Oi can’t remember what. It smelled loike a meat spoice of a sort.” Marrick’s assessment seemed to amuse the Knight as he handed her the green and sturdy stems he had gathered.
“Rosemary, Nibblet. You found rosemary. Quite a useful herb when dried.” Marrick watched fascinatedly as the Knight seemed to cradle the little bundle of stems as a mother might a sick child. “Thank you for bringing them to us. They’ll do nicely.”
'Them?' As the Knight entered the cave, Marrick followed briefly only to look over his shoulder to find Oriah as she shuffled painfully up the path. The pot of water looked heavy as its contents sloshed back and forth. He didn’t need encouragement to take a handle and help her bring the water back. The fire crackled delightfully in the little pit they had dug, and the Kelvic reveled a little in the success of the fire he had built. It showed in the subtle smile that lit his features as he watched it burn. He added another little log to the now disintegrating wood tent he had made to keep the flames going.
Marrick followed suit and washed his face, neck, arms and hands as Sera Mora had. Any surface he had exposed got a brief scrub. It seemed an easy task to wash and prep such a simple meal. He prepped the skewers and bagged the leaves and any stems they weren’t in need of. They would make his pack and bedroll smell fresh. He used a rock to stabilize his bird on its stick over the fire as the others had and attempted to contain his anticipation. The drool that he smacked back from his lips gave him away though he was too hungry to feel embarrassment about it. He was about ready to start nibbling on his boot, or the tip of one of his gloves. Dirt and filth be damned.
As the scents of cooking fowl and rosemary began to fill the cave air the Kelvic settled down onto is haunches to listen as Oriah’s Patron seemed to come clean about her ‘gifts’. Caiyha, goddess of Flora, Fauna, and the Wilderness. The short “Oh” that escaped Marrick’s throat was followed with a nod. “That explains so much.” It was the moment that the Kelvic thought may never come. Sera Mora, answered a question without mystery, guile, or puzzle. For a moment the dark haired squire looked out the cave mouth to be sure that he had not crossed over into the Ukalas or some strange realm where birds spoke and people were the ones that tweeted. Satisfied at last that he was not crazy he returned his attentions to the Chaktawe. “Phylonura?” he whispered to himself quietly to try and commit this fact to memory. It seemed a useful gift. Though perhaps a bit difficult.
It seemed that the hive had been very fruitful this year already and it was still spring yet. That was a good sign. Perhaps the winter had not been as bad as he had thought. When the Knight gave her explanation regarding the smoking of a hive and what they did he blinked in astonishment. It seemed such a strange notion so he considered it. “So the hoive will fill up on honey, their food source, when they believe their hoive is on foire or there is a foire nearby? That’s incredible. Clever wee beasties.” Marrick found himself with a new respect for the little insects. He rolled the idea around in his head a bit as he considered the cause and effect. Even the best way to make smoke to get the little fuzzy critters to react. So lost in thought was he that he had not noticed his bird was beginning to burn on one side.
When the Knight warned them of taking in excess, and Oriah responded with such sobriety the Kelvic found himself smile for just a moment before he nodded as well. “Aye Sera. It’d be a moight cruel, and bloody wasteful if we took more than enough teh flavor our tea fer a few days.”
“Your bird Niblet.” Came Sera Mora’s ever mysterious voice, drawing the Kelvic back to the shore on his ocean of thought. At first Marrick’s jaw dropped as he had thought he had heard the Sera out him right in front of Oriah. Though his teeth clacked shut as he realized a piece of that statement was missing.
“Eh? Ahh hai.” He half mumbled, as he plucked his skewer from under his counter weight rock to pinch the little bird thoughtfully to see if it were cooked enough. The meat on the cooked side had settled stiffly, and there was a subtle scorching there. However it seemed that it might be ready to eat soon, perhaps even now. Though he didn’t want to encourage anyone else to eat raw meat. It wasn’t good for humans. They always had a hard time digesting it. So he flipped the bird and waited as patient as a dog for a treat.
The smell had become frustrating to the point of madness. He even bounced his knee as a junky might as they waited for a fix. He needed to fill the empty time with something. Anything to keep the hunger at bay. “So, yeh can speak teh animals, and plants?” he said rhetorically with a nod of his head. As if by doing so he hoped that it might quell his skepticism. “Oi wonder, what sort of things do they talk about? Do the flowers admire one another on how they have bloomed? Or do the trees talk about how many fruit they bear each year?” the little smile that had grown in amusement on the Kelvics face drained away as his mind began to walk a darker path. “Do they hate us? Fer usin them each year? Do they resent our presence? Or are they more oblivious than that?”
It was then that he had been wrong. “The Knights answer to his question had indeed lead to more questions. Though, he wondered if that was his own fault or if that was simply the way the world worked?
“Roight!” The Kelvic said as cheerily as possible. “Oi’ve no intention teh rob the wee ones of their hard work. After all them’n theirs need it teh live.” The woman was onto him. He loved food after all, especially new experiences. Though the sullen look that smeared Oriah’s good features told him that Sera Mora’s gaze and words were for her.
With a brief smile and wink for Oriah, he walked swiftly to the cave mouth and hopped out onto the nearest rock, taking care to manage what little gear he carried. He had a brief mission to gather green sticks for skewering their meal and hte wood was full of sticks. Though not many were straight.
It wasn’t long till the Kelvic found a standing shrubbery with straight stalks however. For a moment he observed the little plant for any signs of warning. Not a drop of excessive sap, unusual growths, or thorns adorned its surface. In fact many little bugs seemed to be crawling its green skin quite happily. He stroked his chin a brief moment before he drew his dagger with the subtle hiss steel against the brass of scabbards throat.
He sliced away a hands length of one of the plants stems and held it to his nose in his fist, curiosity his guide. With a few furtive sniffs he found the smell familiarly pleasant. It was a spice of some sort, though he was unsure which one. It was common in meat dishes. He knew that, but the name of the herb escaped him. The lack of knowledge made him grumble sofly to himself but for a minute or two before he sliced free a dozen stalks the length of his forearm.
When they were bundled into his hands he gave the bindle of stems another sniff trying to divine the answer to his question. The herbs name though would not come to him. With a thoughtful grind of his teeth he set his jaw and made his way back to the cave mouth.
The area was growing more familiar with every short journey he took into the woods. Though a little doubtful voice in the Kelvic’s head snuffed out any prideful notions of attempting to traverse the place at night. At least not on foot. As he drew close to the caves mouth Sera Mora slid quietly out from behind a nearby tree. Her movement gave the Kelvic pause as he squinted at the slippery feeling Oriah’s Patron gave him when she seemingly materialized from the greenery. “You really enjoy doin that don’t yeh?” he snapped back any scathing statements in an attempt at self-control. Instead he settled for casting a disapproving smirk her way only to receive a mysterious little smile in return.
With a shake of his head the Kelvic presented the Knight with his find. “Give’em a smell. Their some sorta herb. But Oi can’t remember what. It smelled loike a meat spoice of a sort.” Marrick’s assessment seemed to amuse the Knight as he handed her the green and sturdy stems he had gathered.
“Rosemary, Nibblet. You found rosemary. Quite a useful herb when dried.” Marrick watched fascinatedly as the Knight seemed to cradle the little bundle of stems as a mother might a sick child. “Thank you for bringing them to us. They’ll do nicely.”
'Them?' As the Knight entered the cave, Marrick followed briefly only to look over his shoulder to find Oriah as she shuffled painfully up the path. The pot of water looked heavy as its contents sloshed back and forth. He didn’t need encouragement to take a handle and help her bring the water back. The fire crackled delightfully in the little pit they had dug, and the Kelvic reveled a little in the success of the fire he had built. It showed in the subtle smile that lit his features as he watched it burn. He added another little log to the now disintegrating wood tent he had made to keep the flames going.
Marrick followed suit and washed his face, neck, arms and hands as Sera Mora had. Any surface he had exposed got a brief scrub. It seemed an easy task to wash and prep such a simple meal. He prepped the skewers and bagged the leaves and any stems they weren’t in need of. They would make his pack and bedroll smell fresh. He used a rock to stabilize his bird on its stick over the fire as the others had and attempted to contain his anticipation. The drool that he smacked back from his lips gave him away though he was too hungry to feel embarrassment about it. He was about ready to start nibbling on his boot, or the tip of one of his gloves. Dirt and filth be damned.
As the scents of cooking fowl and rosemary began to fill the cave air the Kelvic settled down onto is haunches to listen as Oriah’s Patron seemed to come clean about her ‘gifts’. Caiyha, goddess of Flora, Fauna, and the Wilderness. The short “Oh” that escaped Marrick’s throat was followed with a nod. “That explains so much.” It was the moment that the Kelvic thought may never come. Sera Mora, answered a question without mystery, guile, or puzzle. For a moment the dark haired squire looked out the cave mouth to be sure that he had not crossed over into the Ukalas or some strange realm where birds spoke and people were the ones that tweeted. Satisfied at last that he was not crazy he returned his attentions to the Chaktawe. “Phylonura?” he whispered to himself quietly to try and commit this fact to memory. It seemed a useful gift. Though perhaps a bit difficult.
It seemed that the hive had been very fruitful this year already and it was still spring yet. That was a good sign. Perhaps the winter had not been as bad as he had thought. When the Knight gave her explanation regarding the smoking of a hive and what they did he blinked in astonishment. It seemed such a strange notion so he considered it. “So the hoive will fill up on honey, their food source, when they believe their hoive is on foire or there is a foire nearby? That’s incredible. Clever wee beasties.” Marrick found himself with a new respect for the little insects. He rolled the idea around in his head a bit as he considered the cause and effect. Even the best way to make smoke to get the little fuzzy critters to react. So lost in thought was he that he had not noticed his bird was beginning to burn on one side.
When the Knight warned them of taking in excess, and Oriah responded with such sobriety the Kelvic found himself smile for just a moment before he nodded as well. “Aye Sera. It’d be a moight cruel, and bloody wasteful if we took more than enough teh flavor our tea fer a few days.”
“Your bird Niblet.” Came Sera Mora’s ever mysterious voice, drawing the Kelvic back to the shore on his ocean of thought. At first Marrick’s jaw dropped as he had thought he had heard the Sera out him right in front of Oriah. Though his teeth clacked shut as he realized a piece of that statement was missing.
“Eh? Ahh hai.” He half mumbled, as he plucked his skewer from under his counter weight rock to pinch the little bird thoughtfully to see if it were cooked enough. The meat on the cooked side had settled stiffly, and there was a subtle scorching there. However it seemed that it might be ready to eat soon, perhaps even now. Though he didn’t want to encourage anyone else to eat raw meat. It wasn’t good for humans. They always had a hard time digesting it. So he flipped the bird and waited as patient as a dog for a treat.
The smell had become frustrating to the point of madness. He even bounced his knee as a junky might as they waited for a fix. He needed to fill the empty time with something. Anything to keep the hunger at bay. “So, yeh can speak teh animals, and plants?” he said rhetorically with a nod of his head. As if by doing so he hoped that it might quell his skepticism. “Oi wonder, what sort of things do they talk about? Do the flowers admire one another on how they have bloomed? Or do the trees talk about how many fruit they bear each year?” the little smile that had grown in amusement on the Kelvics face drained away as his mind began to walk a darker path. “Do they hate us? Fer usin them each year? Do they resent our presence? Or are they more oblivious than that?”
It was then that he had been wrong. “The Knights answer to his question had indeed lead to more questions. Though, he wondered if that was his own fault or if that was simply the way the world worked?
